The Gamlet of Glory
by LyriumLove
Summary: Five new Wardens. Their destinies intertwined despite their differences. They must come together to save their world, despite the costs. They will suffer, triumph, despair and rejoice. Through all the tests they overcome, this is their journey, their Gamlet. AU. Origins. Most canon plots intact. Rated T-M. I do not own any Bioware/Dragon Age content, I just play here.


**The Gamlet of Glory**

A Dragon Age Fanfic by LyriumLove

Wardens from all walks of life will come together, unexpectedly and against all odds, to fight the Blight. Can they work together harmoniously, to save Ferelden?

POV Wardens:

1\. Alcmene Cousland: Warrior.

2\. Silvianna Mahariel: Dalish, Mage.

3\. Cyprian Aeducan: Dwarven Rogue.

4\. Mirella Genevito: OC Mage. Dalish.

5\. Ser Roderick Gilmore: Warrior.

Author's Note: Welcome to this epic and crazy tale. It's going to be a long one, folks, and my most ambitious by far. Please, let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions!

xxxx

**Alcmene~30: Dragon, 14th of Wintermarch**

Duncan had to drag her in the end. Kicking, screaming and crying. She would not abandon her parents. If the Warden Commander could escape, so could her parents!

"We can carry him!" she yelled, her throat was raw from screaming, the salt from her tears burning it. Emerald, her Mabari, chose that moment to attack Duncan. Emerald was still barely more than a puppy, but when her sharp teeth latched onto Duncan's leg, armor and all, he released Alcmene and yelled in pain.

The Right of Conscription meant nothing to her, compared to her parents' lives. They were just words meant to frighten people into obedience. She would not obey, not when it meant that her beloved father and mother would perish. There were too many dead already. Her chest constricted painfully as she remembered her sister-in-law and nephew, still a child, slain in their bedroom, most barbarically. _What monsters could cut down an innocent child!?_

She would not lose more, she could never bare it.

"Father, please!" She was begging him, tugging on his sleeve. It was soaked in blood.

"Pup, listen!" His breath was ragged, his words labored. He grasped her hands, looking at her imploringly.

"You must go with Duncan..." Those few words seemed to cost him a great deal of strength; he was bleeding at an alarming rate.

Her mother stood at the door, watching, her bow stretched taut. She lowered it and interrupted.

"Here comes Ser Gilmore! He's wounded, too!" Eleanor Cousland stepped back to allow the man inside. Ser Gilmore was holding his side, a gaping wound seeping through his armor, under his fingers.

"Bar the door. Howe's men are coming." He leaned heavily against it, breathing with great effort. Duncan made to inspect the wound.

"Not nearly so bad as it feels, thankfully," Duncan said, looking it over. "Gilmore, what is the situation in the castle?"

A loud thud sounded from the hall, echoed by the scream of a woman in mortal pain. Alcmene shivered involuntarily.

"The situation, ser...is dire," Gilmore replied, stacking what he could against the door.

"We must make haste before they discover this room!" Duncan was adamant.

"I'm not leaving my parents!" She was shouting again.

"Alcmene, go!" Her mother pleaded with her, crouching beside her father.

"Ser Gilmore, if you could be so kind as to grab that blasted dog. We must go!" Duncan pushed back a large tapestry, revealing the hidden entrance to the tunnels that ran out of Highever Castle.

Alcmene hugged her mother fiercely.

"No, please...we have to..." she began, sobbing; snot mixing with tears, streaking her face.

"We love you, Pup," her parents said in unison as Duncan wrenched Alcmene away by her waist.

Ser Gilmore had Emerald who was squirming and whining piteously, but she would not him, as she knew him well. Duncan dragged Alcmene through the tunnel. Halfway through the first part she finally wretched herself away from him and resigned herself to running with them. Moments later, her mother's scream echoed through the tunnel. She paused, her body, her very being and soul telling her to turn back and go to save her mother. She shouldn't have left, it wasn't fair. She hesitated only a moment, as Duncan pulled on her. Stifling a new sob, she closed her eyes and let her feet pound the stone floor, through twists and turns, down and uphill, trying to blot out the image of her parents being brutally murdered by Howe. They were betrayed.

xxxx

They exited finally, the dark and twisted tunnel giving way to a hazy morning. They had been running, jogging, fleeing, for hours.

"Where are we?" she asked, leaning down against her knees, trying to catch her breath. Gilmore handed her a cloth to wipe her face with. They were definitely some miles from the Castle itself, no sight of it; the exit was carved into the face of the black cliffs, overlooking a valley of dead trees and more rocks. The sky was just beginning to warm, hues of red and orange gracing the sky, fingers of light poking, waking the world. It would have been beautiful, another day.

"Thank you, Gil," she said softly, trying to force herself from sobbing anew.

Instead of answering her, Duncan straightened his back, tilting his head back to catch his own breath. "We make for Ostagar with haste," he said.

Moments later they heard a shout. Duncan unsheathed his sword with remarkable speed for someone so winded. Alcmene started to pull her own sword when she realized she knew the shouter's voice.

"Aside!' She commanded, slipping past Duncan and turning the side of the large rock to find the source of the noise. Slipping on a jagged rock, she found her sister-in-law's lady's maid with her ankle stuck in a rock, cursing for all she was worth.

"Mirella!" She was relieved to see another familiar face. The former Dalish elf startled, but calmed visibly when she realized it was friend not foe who had found her. Alcmene helped to free her and then the two women threw themselves into each other's arms, sobbing.

"It's so horrid...Oriana...Master Oren..." The other girl could barely catch her breath. They clung to each other, riding out waves of despair and shock. Duncan and Gilmore stood aside, allowing the women a few moments of peace and grieving.

Alcmene had known Mirella for years. She'd been born a Dalish elf, but captured at four or five years of age, sold into slavery. Luckily, some of her father's soldiers had intercepted the slavers before Mirella came of age and would have been placed into a whorehouse against her will. She was brought to Highever and worked as a cook, then trained as a lady's maid. When Oriana came to marry her brother, Fergus, she was assigned to her. When Oren was born, she became his nanny as well as Oriana's lady. She was well-loved by the entire family and was Alcmene's best friend. They had shared each other's every secret over the years. Now, they shared each other's sorrow.

Gently, Gilmore pulled at Alcmene's shoulder.

"My lady, we must press on." His voice was soft and full of sorrow, too.

"Oh, Gil, please don't call me 'My Lady'. Not now. Not ever again." She couldn't keep the despair from her voice, but she obeyed and manners took over, gratefully.

"Duncan, this is Mirella Genevito, she was my sister-in-law's lady's maid and nanny to my...nephew Oren. She is a skilled mage and we will be bringing her with us." Although desperately hurt, she made sure her tone would brook no argument. She was still a Cousland and she had given her father an oath. She would not be separated from either it or her only friends in the world.

**Mirella~30: Dragon, 15th of Wintermarch**

She ambled around the camp with no defined purpose or direction. She felt like an unwanted vagabond. She didn't belong here, or anywhere, really. Absently, she drifted up to the overpass, looking out over a vast field and the ruins of Ostagar. "The whole world is ruined," she muttered. Furrowing her brow, she leaned against the cold stone column and pulled in a deep breath.

Mirella was tall for a Fereldan woman, not to mention a Dalish elf. Having been born Dalish, but kidnapped young, she didn't even have any vallasin. Her skin was slightly tanned with a rosy sort of hue. Her body vexed her; a svelte waist that tapered into jutting, full hips. Her arse was ample as well as her thighs, though she was in excellent shape. Her bosom was well proportioned and her shoulders tapered out in a similar fashion to her hips. She had a long, elegant neck with gave her a regal, haughty look. Her hair was long and wavy, not curly by any standards. It was ebony in colour, shiny and soft. Her eyes were a soft gray colour and her lips full, pouty even when she didn't desire such a look. Then there were her ears. She'd been kidnapped at age four or five; she didn't even remember her birthday. The slavers who had taken her had clipped her ears most brutally, then fashioned metal clips on both to shape them closer to human ears. Even now, when she was distressed, Mirella tugged on them.

So engrossed in her thoughts was she, that she didn't notice the small group of men step in to view below her. King Cailan, Loghain and several soldiers were clustered around. She could hear wisps of their arguments below. Because she couldn't make out any particulars; or anything coherent, she stayed put. Judging from the body language, Loghain was fiercely objecting to something Cailan said. Stamping around the frozen ground, he finally seemed to shoo them away. Obviously still seething, Mirella watched the angry, golden-hued man, curiously. He was a pleasurable sight to behold, to be sure. There was something else, though. She felt oddly drawn to his presence suddenly. Something almost magic mulled her attentions to him. She felt a mix of intrigue, desire and fear. In her distraction of watching him, she hadn't realized he'd stopped just below her. Hands on his hips, he seemed to be trying to calm himself. Snow began to fall in soft, delicate flakes. He threw his golden head back and Mirella caught her breath, looking at him. The line of his neck, the bold vein holding his life's blood, protruding ever so slightly on the smooth, soft flesh of his golden neck. The King flicked his tongue out to catch a snowflake, grinning. She uttered a soft sound of desire. A moment later, Cailan looked up, locking eyes with her. A devilish grin spread onto the King's face. Cailan tipped his head to her and then strode off towards the camp. She had to clutch the frozen stone to keep herself from following him.

**Ser Roderick Gilmore~30:Dragon, 15th of Wintermarch**

Three Darkspawn blood vials later, they trudged on. He was determined to prove his worth and show Duncan that he could make a mighty Grey Warden. But he was distracted, too. He ran a hand through his auburn hair. He was still reeling from the shock of the events at Highever. Though young, he'd been in service to the Couslands all his life. Especially Fergus. His heart whimpered at the thought. He and Fergus had grown up together, becoming best friends and then something more. He loved Fergus fiercely and knew that the other man felt the same. Their affair had started as simple and sexual; yet it had spiraled into something much deeper and passionate. They kept their secret well, no one knew but Alcmene and a few of their friends, now all dead. When Fergus had been matched with Oriana, they'd both been fearful for their relationship. They'd known the day would eventually come when Bryce Cousland would marry his eldest, his heir off. But neither of them had paid it any attention until it had caught up with them. So Gil had taken a short assignment away, directly after the wedding, to check on the villagers and farmers surrounding the Cousland land. Those three weeks were the loneliest of his life. He wanted to let Fergus figure out his own future, though. He was an honourable man who truly realized how much titles and heirs meant in their world. When he'd arrived home, it was so late that no one was even at the stables. The entire castle slept and a heavy rain fell. Somehow, Fergus had known. Gil had stripped down to his trousers, putting the horse up when he heard Fergus' soft hello. He'd taken him roughly, there in a stall, with no thought to anything but the burning desire they felt for each other. He bent Fergus against a wall, thrusting into him until his need and loneliness had been spent and exorcized. Soaked from the rain and now sweat, Fergus had turned and embraced him and they'd kissed until they were both out of breath. Fergus had a surprise for him as well. He'd told Oriana everything, in a gamble to win her trust. Fergus had proven victorious, amazingly. Oriana, while a little jealous, had understood. As long as Fergus provided her with children, she'd allow his affair to continue with no repercussions.

Gil chuckled, remembering his first encounter with Oriana. She was bright, energetic and fierce. But she was also caring and demanding. She'd insisted on getting to know the man her husband loved. The three of them spent a great deal of time together. They became great friends and on one drunken encounter, all three lovers. When Oriana bore Oren 9 months later, no one was sure which of the men was the father. He looked so much like Oriana that no one would have ever guessed that it was a possibility that the child was a bastard. It was dismissed from memory. Oriana was happy. Highever had its heir and Gil had his love.

Only...where was Fergus now? Duncan had said he was out scouting. As much as Gil's heart ached for the losses at Highever, too it soared knowing that Fergus was alive. Pulling his sword from the head of a Hurlock, he surveyed their group. Alcmene was like a sister to him. He worried at how withdrawn and depressed she was now. Alcmene had loved her parents so much.

Gil looked on, past Daveth and Jory, to Mirella. He didn't trust the dark, broody girl. Originally a cook in the kitchens at Highever, he'd not had much interaction with the mage; but he certainly didn't want more. She smelled of trouble, especially after he saw how King Cailan had been eyeing her. Ferelden's King had become notorious as of late for his mistresses. Rumours linked him to no less than three bastards. "Yet none from the royal bedroom," he muttered. He pitied Queen Anora immensely.

Finally casting his thoughts aside, he hurried to catch up to where Alcmene had shouted from. Inside some sort of ruins, the group gathered. She thought she'd found the treaties!

**Silviannah~30: Dragon, 15th of Wintermarch**

"Darkspawn vermin," she muttered, wiping the creature's blood from her boots. She rarely spoke anything but her own language, so learning to use the humans' odd tongue was both aggravating and exhausting. _At least their swears are fairly easily to put to memory_. Silviannah was tall for a Dalish, just under 6'. She'd sourly noticed that was something she seemed to share with the dark one, who had been born Dalish but certainly didn't look or act it. _No vallasin and clipped ears. May as well be a shemlen_! It brought her blood to a boil at the indignation of it all. If anything, she was proud of her heritage.

Silviannah's silver-toned skin gave away her Dalish roots as well as her proud and haughty countenance. Her hair was a stark, but beautiful contrast. Rich, mahogany tendrils were pulled into a tight bun, a few wayward curls escaping here and there. Her eyes were a deep aquamarine, her lips thin but soft. She was slight of build but not thin. Her bosom was more robust than she liked but her hips and arse were of little consequence. This was something Tamlen had always teased her about. His memory pricked her heart. They would have been bonded by now. She would, in all likelihood, have been carrying their first child, too. Yet that mirror, that **thing** had taken all their hopes and dreams from them. Part of her wanted to believe they'd find him one day, but her sensible side knew that the mirror's dark magic had killed him. It was still bitter in her mouth.

She irritably cast a spell to clean off the last of the Darkspawn matter from her boots. Hearing a deep, human laugh, she snapped her regal head up.

"Something amusing, shemlen!?"

"Oh, no, just that you're going to get a lot more of that on you and not enough lyrium and mana potions in the world to magic it away." Alistair grinned stupidly at her.

Although the Grey Warden smiled good naturedly at her, Silviannah scowled and stalked away. She hated humans. Hated their smell, the sight of them. Everything they did was destructive. There was no honour to them. Yet here she was, surrounded by them. She had obeyed her keeper. She had not cried. She had kept to her duty, to her Clan. Stepping over a dead Darkspawn, she grimaced at the smell. "I want a hot bath," she muttered.

**Cyprian ~30: Dragon, 15th of Wintermarch**

"It's good to be killin'! Cyprian roared, swinging his war axe down into the chest of a Darkspawn. Too long, he'd been without the rush of the kill, the taste of blood in the air. He flexed his muscles and looked around. Nothing left to kill, he looted the corpses. He was pocketing some gold when he noticed two of the human women staring at him. He winked at them, erupting with laughter as they blustered and scowled.

Cyprian was good-looking, by the Stone. Tanned, taut skin, devilish jade eyes. He had thick black hair, kept in a short ponytail. His beard kept neatly trimmed and braided. Unlike most dwarves, he kept his chest hair trimmed as well. He wasn't too short, either. His legs were muscular but not too thick. He had a pirate's torso and a slim neck. Yes, Cyprian could turn the heads of both dwarf and human women.

By the time they'd found all of the Darkspawn blood they needed, the sun was beginning to set. Daveth was whining to go back.

"We've documents to find, yet, you nug humper. Now let's go!" Cyrpian laughed again at the young human's scowl.

Nightfall still perplexed Cyprian. When he and his twin sister Crescena had been banished to the Deep Roads and then come to the surface, it was the only thing that bothered him. The sky was vast, never-ending. He thought Cress would probably love it. After Duncan had helped them escape the Deep Roads, his twin had left for Denerim to find Gorim. Cyprian sighed. He missed his twin fiercely, they'd never been separated. But Crescena had always loved Gorim and he her. Cyprian would not deny her the chance to finally be with him. No, they had been robbed of much by their family and her chance at happiness would not be another casualty.

**Silviannah~30: Dragon, 15th of Wintermarch**

They were finally starting the Joining. She tucked her tree pendant necklace under her shirt as she awaited her turn to drink from the chalice. It was a small, silver tree that Tamlen had made for her, strung on a simple leather cord. The cool metal against her skin comforted her. She stood with her hips apart, her hands crossed in front of her. Alcmene, the human she could tolerate the most, went first. Although the girl choked and stumbled, she lived.

Ser Daveth was not so lucky, dying shortly after he drank the concoction. Silviannah merely shook her head. This was not for the weak. She watched as the others stood forward, one at a time, to begin their journey.

Cyprian, the dwarf, went next. The burly man barely flinched. He was loud but not vulgar. She could tolerate him in small doses; although she did not like his egotistic manner.

The rest of the humans followed, all seeming to survive, although Ser Jory seemed deathly ill. The cup was passed to Mirella, the dark-haired elf. She said a quick prayer that the Dread Wolf would take her. Alas, the girl lived and her prayers unanswered. Shivering violently on the ground, the other elf persisted.

Finally, Alistair brought the Joining cup to her. It was warm from everyone's touch. Silvianna wiped the rim and tilted her proud head back, draining the contents. Long moments passed. Silent ones. She wondered vaguely if there had been enough Darkspawn blood in the cup

It hit her, then. An explosion in her abdomen, sending shockwaves through her entire body. Each one of her senses screamed from overload, she came down hard on one knee. She could hear Darkspawn, hundreds of them, roaring; the chaotic symphony rang in her ears, threatening to burst them. Her skin burned from over-sensitivity. She couldn't see either-her vision was blurred into stars and darkness. Her tongue was heavy, she could taste blood and metal in her mouth. She began to feel as though she was falling into a pit. Suddenly, she could hear Tamlen singing to her. He was distant, though. She struggled to latch onto the comforting sound as the darkness mercifully swallowed her.


End file.
